Magic and Shadows: A Collection of YA Fantasy and Paranormal Romances

by T. M. Franklin

  “Oh, I couldn’t ask you to do that. You have your own stuff to deal with,” Callie said, tapping on Ava’s notebook.

  “It’s no problem,” Ava said, packing away her stuff and carrying her dishes to the bus station. “I’m as ready as I’m going to be for this test, and your baby needs you.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Definitely. I’m supposed to be off in an hour. I’m sure Jake will let you go now that things have quieted down.”

  Callie considered it for a moment. “Thanks, Av. I owe you. Big time.”

  Ava waved a hand then tied an apron over her jeans. “Don’t worry about it.”

  Callie thanked her repeatedly before heading out, with Ava smiling and shooing her out the door as she wiped down the counter. The blonde waitress ducked into her car and sped out of the parking lot, and Ava started to turn away, only to have her eyes drawn by a movement across the street.

  Her hand froze on the counter mid-swipe as she recognized the tall, dark-haired woman standing in the dim arched doorway of a closed shop, half-hidden by a pair of topiaries flanking the entry.

  It wasn’t the woman who sent a chill down her spine, though, even when Ava recognized her as the same woman she’d seen watching her from the shadows of the administration building. It was the fact that the woman was speaking to a man—a large, muscular man dressed all in black.

  A man who bore a strong resemblance to the man from her dream.

  “Ava?”

  She jumped, shrieking slightly as her boss touched her arm.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Jake asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  Ava turned back to the window, but the doorway across the street was empty. She ran to the front doors, slamming through them as she looked up and down the street, her heart pounding and mind racing wildly.

  It couldn’t be, could it? Where could they have gone? There was no way . . .

  Jake came through the doors a moment later, wiping his thick hands on his apron before running one through his short, gray hair. “What the hell’s going on?” he asked. “What are you doing out here?”

  Ava blinked at him, eyes blown wide with shock. “I . . . uh . . . I thought I saw someone,” she said.

  Jake scanned the empty road. “Where?”

  Ava shook her head. Obviously, she was losing it. Her lack of sleep and the freaky recurring dream was messing with her mind, making her see things that weren’t there. “Nowhere,” she mumbled with a heavy sigh. “I just . . . I need to get back to my tables.” She pushed her way back into the diner and swept behind the counter to grab the coffee pot, forcing a smile as she filled cups and cleared plates. Her hands trembled, the plates clinking as she set them down, taking a deep breath. She gulped down a glass of water, trying to make sense of it all.

  It wasn’t possible. It was her imagination. She definitely needed more sleep.

  And maybe professional help.

  “You sure you’re okay?” Jake asked quietly, dark eyes kind in his creased face as he refilled her water glass.

  She took it with a grateful smile. “Yeah. Sorry,” she said, taking a sip. “Just a lot on my mind, you know?”

  “You need to leave early?”

  “No,” she said quickly, and Jake frowned in understanding. She needed the money, and she knew he wouldn’t force the issue. He patted her arm and walked back into the kitchen as she got back to work, smiling her way through the rest of her shift. But she couldn’t keep herself from looking up now and then, holding her breath as she glanced at the doorway across the street.

  And only letting it out when she found it still dark and empty.

  When closing time finally came around, Ava shivered as she walked out of the diner, huddling deeper into her wool coat and tugging her scarf up over her mouth. She hoisted her backpack higher onto her shoulder before setting off down the sidewalk, quickly covering the two blocks to campus and only looking over her shoulder nervously a handful of times.

  Maybe a dozen.

  Fifteen, tops.

  She hurried down the walkway toward the dorms, the dim path lights flickering little circles of yellow on the frosted concrete. The moon glowed slightly behind the haze of wispy clouds, and a shout of laughter drew her attention to a couple coming toward her, arms entwined. They were dressed as Romeo and Juliet, their costumes partially hidden under thick coats and mittens. They kissed, breath clouding around them, and began to run, smiling at her as they went past.

  She couldn’t help smiling back.

  Their footsteps echoed away until once again, the only sounds interrupting Ava’s quiet breathing were the crunch of her own boots and the squeak of her backpack straps.

  And . . .

  Ava stiffened, the peculiar feeling sliding over her once again. She scanned the landscape around her, facing straight ahead but her eyes seeking, carefully combing the surrounding shadows.

  Nothing.

  Still, she couldn’t shake that creepy sensation that someone was watching her. She quickened her pace, slipping off her right glove and reaching into her coat pocket to grip her pepper spray tightly.

  Was that . . . ?

  Were those footsteps?

  Ava’s heartbeat quickened, her palms growing moist even in the brisk cold. She flipped the safety off the pepper spray, her thumb poised over the button. As she neared the bridge marking the halfway point to her dorm, she glanced over her shoulder quickly. Seeing nothing, she hurried over the bridge, cursing the burned-out bulb that left it in darkness.

  Suddenly, a stifling feeling overcame her—like a dark blanket had been thrown over her head to suffocate her—and she whirled around, her backpack clattering to the ground as she whipped the pepper spray out of her pocket and held it at arm’s length. Ava gulped for air, eyes frantically darting about, and the trembling hand holding the pepper spray flailing as wildly as her gaze. She was sure someone was there. She swore she could feel them. She stood frozen with fear, waiting . . . watching.

  After a few long moments, she shook her head, glad nobody had witnessed her desperate panic. With a heavy sigh, she pocketed her pepper spray, embarrassed at her own ridiculousness. She had to stop this nonsense. She was driving herself crazy. It was just a dream making her jumpy, nothing else.

  Just a crazy, scary dream.

  Ava bent to pick up her backpack, sliding it onto her shoulder as she scanned the horizon one more time. With a self-deprecating chuckle, she turned around to continue home.

  Only to stop short in terror.

  A man—a huge man—stood before her, mouth twisted in rage. He towered over her, at least six and a half feet tall, his shoulders wide, and arms banded with muscle. Shaved close to his head, his dark hair shadowed his skull, and his intimidating appearance was only enhanced by the jagged scar running down the right side of his face, from forehead to chin. He didn’t wear a coat, only a tight, black shirt and fatigues, black boots on his feet, and a wide leather belt with a mean-looking gun holstered at his hip.

  It couldn’t be. But it was.

  It was him. The man from her nightmares.

  Ava scrambled back, but he reached out in a flash, gripping her upper arms and lifting her up so her toes barely brushed the ground. One hand slid to her throat, and he held her easily, pulling her closer to his frightening face.

  “Please,” she begged, the word catching as she fought to breathe.

  The man’s glare tightened, and Ava stared in morbid fascination at his mismatched eyes—blue and green—odd and vividly terrifying. She struggled, reaching for her pepper spray, only to have it slip from her fingers as she kicked out at the man.

  He responded by laughing humorlessly, flipping her around and banding one arm around her torso. His grip was like iron, and she could barely breathe.

  “Please,” she said again, dizziness closing in. “I can’t,” she gasped.

  A press of metal to her temple transformed her fearful trembles into horrified shudders. She had no
doubt. She was going to die. Her eyelids fluttered shut in defeat as he cocked the gun, the loud click echoing off the trees.

  Then, a flash of black, a gust of wind, and suddenly she could breathe again. The man’s grip loosened, but he didn’t release her.

  “Damn you,” he growled. “Stay out of this!”

  Ava pushed him, her efforts in vain, as he hitched her up in response, tucking her under his arm like a bag of groceries. She kicked her legs, flailing desperately as the man spun about, pointing his gun into the darkness.

  “Show yourself, you coward!”

  The same flash of black, another blast of wind, and Ava fell to the ground, her head cracking on the concrete. She curled onto her side, moaning, lifting a hand to the back of her head, and squinting in shock at the blood that came away, streaking across her trembling palm.

  Low grunts and the crack of bone on flesh floated on the air toward her, muzzy with her disorientation. She tried to focus, but could only make out two dark figures exchanging blows. Ava tried to sit up, but collapsed back onto the icy ground, overcome by a shock of dizziness and nausea.

  Suddenly, the two dark beings seemed to meld into one, and in the next moment, she felt herself floating. She blinked; a face took form above her briefly, the features cast in shadow.

  “Do I . . . do I know you?” she mumbled, fighting for consciousness.

  “I’ve got you,” a low voice replied, and Ava nodded as a cool palm stroked her forehead, and the darkness consumed her.

  “Ava?”

  A quiet voice cut through the darkness, pulling Ava toward consciousness.

  “Ava? Are you okay?”

  She opened her eyes slowly to find her roommate, Lucy, hovering over her, a concerned look on her face.

  “Luce?” she mumbled. “What happened? What time is it?”

  “It’s after one,” she said, and Ava absently noticed she’d already changed out of her costume and into sweats and a T-shirt. “I wouldn’t have woken you, but you didn’t look very comfortable.”

  Ava sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes and looking around blankly. She stretched, realizing she’d been asleep on the couch wearing her coat and boots, her backpack still looped over her shoulder. She shrugged it off, dropping it to the floor.

  “That’s weird,” she mumbled, still a bit dazed.

  “Why are you out here anyway?” Lucy asked, moving into the kitchenette and pulling a bottle of water out of the mini-fridge.

  “I’m not exactly sure,” Ava replied hesitantly, the events of the past few hours an empty void with only a few flashes of images, just out-of-focus enough that she couldn’t make sense of them. She sat up, wincing at a sudden stab of pain. “Crap. My head,” she muttered, reaching up to touch the back of her scalp gently. “It feels like I banged it on something.”

  “What?” Lucy said, choking on her water as she hurried back over to the couch, sitting on the small coffee table. “What happened? Did you fall?”

  Ava squinted, trying to make sense of it all. Trying to remember. “I—I don’t know. Maybe?”

  “Let me see,” she said briskly, moving next to her friend and turning her head gently. She lifted Ava’s hair, prodding the flesh beneath. “Does it hurt?”

  Ava shrugged. “Not too bad. Kind of a dull ache.”

  “Well, I don’t really see anything,” Lucy said, picking something from her hair. “You’ve got some dirt back here, and maybe a little dried blood in your hair, but I can’t find a wound.”

  “That’s weird. How can there be blood without a wound?”

  Lucy peered a little closer. “I don’t know. But there’s nothing here other than this old scar.”

  “Scar? I don’t have a scar.”

  Lucy laughed. “Maybe you did hit your head. You have a scar right here.” She ran her finger over a raised area under Ava’s crown. “Couple inches long.”

  Ava reached back, touching the area tenderly. Sure enough, she could make out the raised ridge of a scar. “How in the world?”

  “You sure you’re okay?” Lucy asked. “Maybe you should go the hospital. If you hit your head you might have a concussion.”

  “No, no . . . really, I’m fine,” Ava replied. “It’s not that bad. I’ll take a couple of aspirin, and I’m sure I’ll be okay.”

  “I don’t know, Av. You don’t look so hot.”

  Ava forced a weak smile. “I’m just tired. I really want a shower and to crawl into bed. I’m sure I’ll feel better in the morning.”

  Lucy frowned skeptically. “Okay. If you’re sure.”

  “I’m fine.” She gave her friend a slight shove. “I swear!”

  “Okay! Okay!” Lucy laughed, hugging her lightly before turning to get ready for bed, and Ava gathered her shower items, heading down the hall to the communal bathroom. The hot water felt wonderful, easing her aching muscles and lulling her into comfortable relaxation. She carefully shampooed the debris from her hair frowning in confusion once again when the pain at the back of her head seemed to have disappeared completely. She fingered the scar curiously, still unable to make any sense of it.

  Ava turned her face up to the water, closing her eyes and letting it sluice over her skin.

  A flash of black. A gust of wind. Mismatched eyes, one blue, the other green . . .

  Her eyes flew open.

  What . . . ?

  Ava lifted her hand to turn off the water, only to find it clenched into a tight fist. In fact, every muscle in her body seemed tensed, poised for fight or flight.

  She took a deep breath, willing her muscles to relax and shaking her hands as she unwound her fingers. Turning off the water, she toweled herself dry and dressed in her comfy T-shirt and flannel pants, then made her way to the row of sinks by the door to brush her teeth. She obviously needed more sleep. Or at least sleep uninterrupted by her freaky dreams. If it didn’t get better soon, she might have to try a sleeping pill or something. Lucy raved about that herbal—

  Ava froze as she spotted herself in the mirror. Slowly, she pulled the foamy toothbrush from her lips and spat into the sink, setting the toothbrush on the edge.

  Sweeping her wet hair up in one hand, she tilted her head to examine the strange oval-shaped bruise just under her ear. Running her finger over it lightly, she turned her head only to find three smaller, similar prints on the opposite side of her neck. They were light, faded. You might miss them if you weren’t looking for them. Unsure what prompted the idea, she lifted her right hand, placing her thumb over the single bruise and stretching her other fingers across her throat. They didn’t quite reach. Her hand was too small. It would take a much larger hand to leave such marks.

  Ava took a trembling breath, lowering her arm to lean against the sink.

  What was going on?

  She stared at her reflection for a moment then let her eyes fall closed again, breathing slowly.

  Lying on the concrete . . . blood . . . fighting . . . floating . . .

  A huge hulk of a man.

  “Damn you! Stay out of this!”

  Ava’s eyes flew open, breath heaving as she quickly gathered her things and left the bathroom. She staggered down the hall toward her room, fumbling with the knob before she finally made it inside. She cursed when she dropped her shampoo, unable to pick it up with her trembling fingers.

  “Av? What’s wrong?” Lucy sat up in bed, flipping on her bedside lamp.

  “I . . . uh. I don’t know,” Ava stammered, curling up on the sofa. Lucy jumped up from her bed and moved to sit next to her. “This is going to sound crazy,” Ava said, shoving damp hair away from her face.

  “Ava, you’re scaring me.”

  “It’s like a horror movie where your nightmare comes to life, you know?” Ava choked out.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “This!” Ava shouted, pulling her hair back to show the marks on her neck.

  Lucy squinted, examining the area. “Are those . . . bruises?” she asked, mouth dropping open in shock.


  Ava gulped, fighting back panicked tears. “Yeah. I think so . . . yeah.”

  “But how did you get them?”

  Ava sprang to her feet and began to pace. “I don’t know! That’s the thing. I have these marks on my neck like someone tried to strangle me. And a scar that’s never been there before. But that’s impossible, right?” Lucy stared at her, unsure what to say. “And they look like they’ve been there for a long time. So, why didn’t I notice them yesterday or the day before? And if they are new, how can they be healed?” She collapsed back onto the couch. “Luce, I feel like I’m going crazy.”

  Lucy grabbed her hands, squeezing them tightly. “You’re not crazy.”

  Ava took a deep breath. “I think . . . something happened to me tonight.”

  “What?”

  “I think maybe . . . somebody tried to hurt me. I just don’t understand why I can’t remember.” She pressed her palms against her temples. “I keep seeing the man from my nightmares, Luce. But he’s real, and he’s trying to hurt me. And then I fall and . . . hit my head.” Her hand drifted to the scar at the back of her head. “It’s like it happened. But it couldn’t have, right?” She looked at her friend helplessly, tears pricking her eyes.

  “Oh, my God,” Lucy murmured, rubbing a thumb over Ava’s hand. “Av, maybe you need to call the police.”

  “And tell them what, exactly?” she huffed. “That a guy I’ve been dreaming about for months—the guy I’ve been hallucinating—attacked me, but I can’t really remember it because I hit my head, but there’s no wound because it’s miraculously healed?”

  Lucy exhaled heavily. “So what are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know.” Ava flopped back, throwing her hands up. “I wish I could remember what happened.”

  “Well, try and retrace your steps. What’s the last thing you remember?”

  “I was . . . walking home from work.” She stood and crossed to the window, looking down on the path she took every day. “And I felt like someone was there.”

  “Who?”

  “I don’t know. No . . . wait,” she said, heart pounding. “I saw him before that. Outside the restaurant.”

  “He was outside?”